tonight i am
a tourist
in your bedroom
my party dress
is like hawaiian shirts and khakis
compared to the t-shirts and jeans
littering your carpet
like fallen brown leaves
during autumn
i sit on your duvet
because you said
wait here-
i’ll be back in a minute
but it’s been ten
so my eyes wander
like a wayward wren
your books are not mine
there’s no poetry
there are pictures of memories
on your wall
none of them me
after tonight, that’s all i’ll be-
a note is on your board:
i love you
was it her?
it’s hard to see
oh wait, it was me
it’s bent and folded
like my insides
the writing is fading
like the makeup on my face
what’s taking you so long?
maybe you didn’t want me
and all this time i was wrong
and you’re hiding in the bathroom
waiting for me to take the hint
and leave
of course that’s it
i can’t believe
i thought you
actually wanted me
i’m so silly
of course
i do not belong here
my purse looks wrong
laying next to your guitar
but i can fix that quick
i will simply
thank you
for the ride
nurse my wounded pride
then i’ll be gone
and you will forget me
before long
so i get up
and the door opens
and you’re there
and you smile
and you touch my shoulder
and you say
i’m sorry
i took so long
i wanted to find
the perfect record
with the perfect song
you know that one
about a sunset in waterloo?
it always reminds me of you
but i’m here now
and i’m so silly
this whole night
is a mess
like my lipstick
on your lips
oh this anxiety i detest
your clothes are funny
compared to my dress
your books are not mine
besides the one on the end
(my brilliant friend)
the memories on the wall
are not of me
but they could be
i do not belong here
that is for sure
but then again-
all these things
were chosen by you
and i was too
so maybe i do belong
after all

sometimes an acrid heat
rises in my vocal cords
it tells me to do things
i don't want to do
but i do want it
i just wish i didn't.

it steals my voice
it masquerades as honor
it whispers justifications
it reveals itself to me
in a way i can't refuse

it tells me
it reminds me
how sweetly it stings
when i drag my fingers
against my skin
how could i say no?
i am weak

it wants me to hurt
i want to hurt
it wants me to hurt
i want to hurt
i(t) want(s me) to hurt
because it never was anything
but my own desires
i just didn't want them
to be mine

i wish i could tell you

everything

the fights
the tearful nights
the pain and the hurt

it's so hard to keep things from you
because your eyes hold concern
and you worry for me
i can see it

but i've been taught,
brainwashed,
trained

and the very thought of those words leaving me
the taste of my confession on my lips
makes my being so very, very afraid

and sweetheart, you're
not in a position
to protect me
but
i still
love you

windows in train cars
full of grime and stray fingerprints
we exchange glances
via our reflections
distorted through glass
and our own warped perceptions
of those around us

no words are spoken
the silence revered

we exist in bubbles;
no, not bubbles
we are trees
we whisper quietly
words of no meaning
and we reach so silently
for each other
but cannot move

my skin is blue with depression
my breaths are yellow with anxiety
i bleed red from anger
and my heart is grey with apathy

i love in chocolate browns
i hurt in deep maroons
i sleep with the deepest of blacks
i speak with the quietest of greens

my shame is pale orange
a sickly, strange color
it coats my fingertips
and it hurts to look at

my fear is a midnight blue
soothing in its constancy
it sings to me in the ruddy moments
it calms me during the greyest of days

my loneliness is a royal purple
in the paintings of my youth
it stands out
it overpowers all other colors

i live in shades of colors
together they paint a picture
of a person
or, a palette

If somebody told you
This is the end
And if you knew those words to be true
Would you do things different

Would you be kind to your neighbor
Call up your friends
Set a meet and greet with your enemies
To make amends

Would your main focus
Be on that last breath of life
Or would it go unnoticed
With the fact that you're dying

Would you marvel at all
The mess of debt you collect
All the now worthless stuff
That fills your life and your head

You can't take it with you
Is what they always say
So why is our grip so tight on it
All the way to the grave

If you were told that the end
Was one heartbeat away
What would that truth do to you
And would you even change